


all the secrets silenced by the shame (don’t make me say it)

by Buttercup_ghost



Series: my life’s work, reduced to just myself [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Crushes, Developing “Friendships”, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enoshima Junko Being Enoshima Junko, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Irony, Junko Enoshima: Professional Asshole, Junko being a flirt (although it’s mainly used as a manipulation tactic), Lies, Manipulation, Secrets, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Suicide Attempt, Trust, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: “Unseen to him, junkos own smile curved, a cheshire grin, malicious delight shining in her eyes, as she left.”Makoto naegi puts his trust in someone he shouldn’t.





	all the secrets silenced by the shame (don’t make me say it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm scared that you'll compare and I'll live a lifetime past repair_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: talk of self harm & past suicide attempt, emotional manipulation, depression, self hate, and low self esteem/value. basically, relates back to chapter twos motive—darkest secrets—with the idea that makotos secret is, you know, darker than wetting the bed. that being said, this was mainly inspired by makotos line about sayakas smile; how he said it “saved him”, which I always found to be a kinda odd line, along with him claiming optimism is his “only redeeming quality”, and while I’m sure it meant seeing her smile and having the goal to get her out safe kept him from freaking out himself, this idea got in my head. mainly because I like projecting my issues onto fictional people. ah well, it’s an au, I can butcher characterization all I want

Makoto naegi was a little overwhelmed. Without preamble, two of his most egmatic classmates stopped him before he could leave class, junko running and waving excitedly, and mukuro appearing beside him from seemingly nowhere. That wasn’t to say he was unhappy with this—although he did pass chihiro an apologetic glance when they passed him, sad he couldn’t hang out with them like he said—he loved his classmates, even the more bizarre ones. They never failed to make him smile, and his heart housed them with fondness.

Junko reached him, stopping near her sister, a smile on her face that was equal parts sharp and feral. To most people, the look would make them shiver, but he pushed that instinct away without even a thought. He knew junko wouldn’t hurt him, after all. So he just hesitantly returned her excited, albeit slightly scary, grin, wondering with both exasperation and fondness what caught his ever-moving classmates eye, this time. Her sister watched, fading into the background, an almost bored look on her face, although when her eyes land on him, he saw something soften in them. His smile relaxed, a bit, at the look, less hesitant than before, more natural, and he waves at her. She blinked, surprised, and have a tiny smile, waving back. He grinned.

Junko frowned at this, briefly, before her eyes light up again, “ _Nae-chan!_ ” She cooed, gleaming excitedly, as she threw herself at him, trapping him in her hold. It was awkward, with him still sitting down, ending up with her just smushing his face against her chest, hugging his head tightly. She hums, happy, and makoto fights off his blush.

”J-junko-!” He exclaimed it in surprise, silently trying to plead with mukuro to intervene, though all she did was flush slightly and look away. “Ack—!” 

Finally, after what felt like eternity, junko pulled away, a cheery grin on her face, “Nae-chan, it feels like we haven’t talked in forever!”

Makoto took a few deep breathes, as junko sat on his desk, grinning down at him. For a second, he was afraid he would suffocate. “Junko-San,” he begins, exasperated, although not without fondness, “what was that?”

She pouts, childishly. “That was me hugging you, of course!”

”Err...” he rubbed his cheek awkwardly, still slightly embarrassed, before mentally shrugging. “Okay then.”

Junko gasped, dramatically, expression torn between devilish delight and faux hurt. “Don’t tell me, you felt ‘ _them_ ,’ did you?! Makoto, you pervert! You did it on purpose, didn’t you?!”

“E-eh..?” He blinked, before realization dawned on him, and his face heated up, “N-no! You’ve got it wrong, I would never—!”

Junko laughed slightly, a giggle of pure elation, “don’t worry, I don’t mind! Any teenage boy would want to feel the ultimate garyus junk!” She winks, and his mind short curcits slightly.

”I didn’t- I— _JUNKO_!” 

“Yes? What is it, my beloved classmate?” The teasing grin on her face widens, and he just knows that she’s taking pleasure in his embarrassment.

Taking a breath, makoto calmed his mind and his heart, willing his blush to receded. “Junko..” he said, it in both warning and reproach, a weak glare on his face, but that only seems to make her smile grow.

He looked down, slightly awkward, and a bit upset, at her crystal blue gaze that only showed merit. “You know I wouldn’t do that...”

She giggles softly, an almost gentle look on her face, full of fondness. “I know you wouldn’t, nae-chan. You’re not that kind of guy. Though it _is_ fun to tease you.” She smiled slightly, before looking at him, her face mimicking concern. “What’s wrong?”

Once more he flushed, although this time it was due to being seen through so easily. He sighed. “Saya-chan is still on tour...” he looks at his desk, scowling faintly. Normally, he wouldn’t talk about himself so much, but junkos gaze seemed genuinely interested. He supposed, like him, she liked to help her classmates, liked to talk about their issues to help lossen the burden. The thought made him smile, fitting into place perfectly with what he’s noticed about her. A kind—if michevious—person, always ready to lend a shoulder to her friends. He knew she even helped some of their upperclassmen, after they lost two people to a reported pervert. She seemed to make mikan happy, too, the last few times he’s gone to see her when injured, revealing a happy smile on the girls face, and less stammering.

 _Maybe..._ “I really miss her, you know,” he started, hesitating, unsure, and junko nodded encouragingly, “she’s important to me...”

Junko grinned briefly at that, teasing, where as mukuro gained a thoughtful look, eyes shinning with an unreadable emotion. He flushed prematurely, knowing what junko was thinking, quickly adding, “She’s my first real friend, you know?”

Surprise registers on junkos face, and she peers at him closely, as if reanalyzing him, and he shifts uncomfortably. “I mean... I had friends, before, but.. I’m a lot closer to you guys than I ever was to them. I really love this class,” he smiled, affectionate, “you’re all really great, you know? You and mukuro, especially, were really welcoming—although you were a bit intimidating.” He chuckled, scratching his cheek sheepishly, “I admit, sayaka was less intimidating at first, if only because I knew her vaguely from middle school.” He smiled at them, charming, gleaming genuinely. There was a nostalgic affection, there, tinted with something unidentifiable, even to him. “She was the first one who I was really close to.”

”Hm..” junko hummed, and mukuro bit her lips, eyebrows creasing, lifting her hand as if to place it on him, before dropping it, taking a step back, withdrawing into herself. Junko ignored her, even when makotos eyes looked at the action, concerned. “Makoto,” junko said sharply, an odd sort of tone on her, one he never heard before, and his eyes snapped to her without his input, focusing, zeroing in on her intense gaze. 

She softened, after a moment, eyes turning gentle as she looked at him, really _looked_ at him. “You know you can always come to us, too, don’t you? You’re always there for everyone, yet it seems like the only people you open up to about yourself are chihiro and sayaka, and even then it’s like you’re holding yourself back.” He bit his lip, and her gaze followed the movement, settling on it with a frown. “Me and mukuro... we might not be much, but.... you’re always there for everyone. Why don’t you let us be there for you?”

Makotos breath caught. He could feel tears pressing, stinging against his eyes. He pushed them back, though, and smiled, bright and hopeful, even as his heart constricted. “Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it.” _I really appreciate **you**._

He breathed in, the faint spell of chalk and flowers mixing. It smelt like home, like this classroom, like his friends. “I’m really fine, though,” he grinned, “just knowing you guys are here makes me happy. Maybe that’s why I miss saya-chan so much..” he sighed wistfully. “You’re all just such good friends, you know? So how can I not miss you?”

He shook his head, a determined look on his face, “But I’m happy. I’m happy saya-chans on tour, because it’s what makes her happy. I know she’ll be back, too, so there’s no reason to mope. I have to stay optimistic.” He smiled, a hopeful little thing, although it was tinged with something else, too.  

Junko looked at him, blankly. For a second, for the first time, her face sent a feeling of dread to his heart, instead of comfort. But before he could act on this fear, before he could call out to her, or run, she smiled, wide and big and just a bit rueful. “You’re really quite the hopeful guy, huh, mako?”

He scratched his cheek at the praise, a noise escaping him, crossed between a protest and a preen. “A-ah, no... I‘m nothing special, anyone would be happy for her. It’s her dream, after all, isn’t it?”

Junko shook her head again, the strange little smile still on her face. Mukuro looked down at the floor.

”Y-you know,” she spoke up hesitantly, her voice low, “I think...” she paused, “I think that such a sentiment is.. special. A-and the fact that you think it so easily, really shows off the kind of person you are.” At the end of her speech she’s blushing, her head hanging low, hunching into herself. Junko looks at her intently, a frown pulling on her lips, if only slightly. “Did you feel like that,” she starts slowly, “when I was first starting to become a model?”

Mukuro snaps up, almost at attention, shaking slightly. “I missed you, junko-chan.” She whispers it, hoarse. There’s something almost dangerous in junkos gaze. “Were you happy for me?” She asked, almost like a hiss, raspy. 

Mukuro bit her lip, unsure how to answer under her gaze. “Y-yes, junko-chan. I was happy that you were happy. I’m always happy when you’re happy.” 

“Happy, huh?” Junko smiles down at her.

She swallowed, “But everyday you were gone I was in despair.”

Junko almost melts, at that, gazing at her lovingly, enveloping her into a hug. “Jeez Mukuro-onee-Chan, you’re so stupid.” She speaks fondly, poking her sisters cheek. “I love you, too,” she says into her hair, humming happily, approvingly.

Makoto smiled at the scene, even as a uneasy feeling at their interaction. There was something about it that seemed... off, before, but the way junko looked at her sister was tender, and the image reminded him of komaru. The love and care they had for each other was real, was there, and anyone who loves that much, who cares that much, was truly special. He found himself admiring junko, admiring how she always seemed to want to spread her happiness around. He could hope, hope desperately, but he knew he could never be someone like junko.

She was so full of life, energetic and happy. As if stuff bounced off of her, like troubles weren’t troubles for her at all. She looked into the darkness and laughed at it. He wished he could be that, be so full of life and joy, love himself and the world as much as her. Love _living,_ as much as her. 

But he couldn’t. He didn’t have endless happiness. He didn’t have anything but this tight, restrictive hope in his chest, chanting, _maybe it gets better, maybe it gets better._

He wished he could face despair and come out smiling, smiling a real, true smile. But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t strong; he was just normal, average, _worse_ than everyone here, with only optimism as his redeeming quality. Only his words, only his ablility to put others above himself, to _let himself be used_ , only that. But he didn’t mind—he knew he wasn’t interesting, he knew he was subpar. He knew there wasn’t anything about _him_ , as a person, to care about, only what he could do, could make them feel.

He could be anyone who could fake a smile.

He wasn’t special. He really, really wasn’t. Anyone could have been him, anyone far more worthy, better. But even if he wasn’t special, he was okay with that, he was okay, because he loved them all; all he wanted was to make them smile, even if his own wasn’t real. 

He was happy. But he wasn’t like junko—he wasn’t spreading his joy around, wasn’t making others smile because he could, but instead because he _couldn’t_. He was happy, because could make _them_ happy, and for a moment, make himself believe the care in their eyes wasn’t built on his ability to cause a smile, or the image they saw of him when they looked, but himself. He was happy, but not like junko, because that joy always seemed to end too soon.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts when junko flicked him on the forehead. “Ah..” 

“You spaced out for a sec, there, nae-chan! You ok?” Her face was smiling, but he could see how her eyebrows creased in concern, as well. “O-oh, well... I was just thinking how lucky I was to have met you all.

Junko grinned boldly, worry gone from her, replaced by something brighter. “Oh, mako, you sweet taker, you! You know just what to say to a girl.”

He laughed at that, too elated to feel embarrassed. 

Junko hummed once more, amused. There was something still off about her gaze, though, something ingeniune.

”Hey, I’ll let you in on a secret—though, only if you promise not to tell! A fair maiden like myself has to protect her image, after all! You see..” she paused for a split second, dramatically, “I’m not a natural blonde! Shocking, I _know!_ ” She smiled, laughing, enjoying her teasing. Makoto smiled back, but as soon as it came, junko’s look vanished, replaced by something more conflicted, more serious. “Mukuro was the first one to bleach it,” her teeth tug at her lips, a bit, before they fell, opening her mouth a fraction, tongue darting out nervously, barely visible, to wet them, “we found the package in the dumpster, when we were living on the streets.”

His expression morft into horror, and she laughed deceptively light at it, a self-pitting edge to the sound. “Hardly anyone knows that. They probably think junko enoshima was born as junko enoshima—but I had to fight for this. For who I am today. That’s my real secret.” Her smile is rueful.

His breathe caught in his throat at the confession. All he could think was how strong this girl in front of him must be, how strong they must both be. The thought repeats in his head endlessly, how breathtaking that strength is, and he knows not all of his awe or admiration is kept from his gaze. 

He everted his emerald eyes from her sapphires, swallowing so his voice wouldn’t break. “You’re amazing, junko. You both are,” he spoke honestly, “I haven’t gone through something as bad as that at all.”

”So you don’t have a secret?” Her gaze shown with curiosity.

”Well, everyone has a secret, I think, but it’s not nearly as deep as you guys,” he rubbed his neck, “it’s actually kinda embarrassing, really... I kinda, uh, wet the bed... until fifth grade.”

Junko paused, as if taking that in, before promptly bursting into laughter. “You‘re too.. are you sure you’re even real?” her giggle sounded choked and strangled, near hysterics. Makoto swallowed the urge to flinch, focusing on her completely, instead. “No, seriously, is there _anything_ wrong with you? Are you superhuman, or something?” for a moment, he could have sworn she looked genuinely upset, but it transformed into a big smile not even a second later, before he could process it.

“Ehehe...” he blushed at the praise, his hand rising up to scratch his cheek, once more. He was embarrassed at how much she was complementing him, a little tug of guilt in his heart.

Maybe, in another time, in another universe, it would have ended there. Maybe, they would have all left with smiles on their faces, and words of teasing, at how innocent naegi was. Maybe.

But that’s a what if... just one of the many possibilities of the world, the universe. If his sleeve didn’t slip... if mukuro hadn’t spotted it.... if her gasp was stifled..... if junko didn’t hear......

_(if, maybe, a better him had never started in the first place.....)_

It was irrelevant, though, because it did slip, because she did see, because she did gasp, because junko did look at her, surprised at the sound, before following her gaze—directly to the red, scabbed-over line in his wrist, her crystal eyes mutely staring in shock, as makotos whole world stopped.

It was dark out, already, his mind suplied dumbly, distant. They’ve been talking for hours, he thinks. So why does this moment feel so far away, so different from all their others?

Junkos hand grasps his wrists firmly, quickly, like a snake snapping out at their prey, and he comes rushing back, the world so painfully in focused when only moments (minutes?) ago, it was so out of frame. Her hand grounds him, tight, unforgiving, and he can feel the situation crash into him, the knowledge that this was happening like a tidal wave sent to knock him over. “I-it...” he’s stammering, panic clear in his voice, “this isn’t what it looks like.” It sounds like a lie even to his own ears, and despair shown on his face. They knew. They knew. _They knew_.

”Makoto...” junkos voice is wavering, her hand shaking from her unrelenting grip. “Oh, my god.” She whispers it in realization, puzzle pieces clacking together in her head.

”You..” she laughs, helpless to the whims of her body, and makoto knows, for sure, that broken sound was what despair sounded like. “You... oh my god. _Oh my god.”_

There’s amazement in her voice, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening. “Am I dreaming...?” Her usual confident voice is weak, faint. Numbly, he shook his head, swallowing through his suddenly dry mouth, through the feeling of cotton. His ears buzz with white noise, and he cleared his throat, trying to speak, to respond. Once, twice, three times, his voice fails him. “N-no... y-you’re awake.” When his words finally come out, they’re strangled, sounding like a mix of dread and apology.

He risked a glance at mukuro, her usually unshakable face riddled with horror, a despair that mirrored his own. “I didn’t... want you to know.” He whispers it, swaying in place, only staying upright under junkos vice-grip. “I didn’t.. want _anyone_ to know.” The fear on his face was on full display, an expression usually locked inside. He wet his lips, avoiding both their gazes. Mukuros eyes were closed, now, shutting out such a reality, so it wasn’t hard to avoid her silver—however, junkos gaze was unwavering, piercing. “Makoto,” her voice is suprisingly steady, “what the fuck.”

He cringed at her bluntness, at the sight anger and hurt in her eyes, eyes that demanded _why didn’t you tell us?_ They were eyes that could tear apart better men with just a look, and he suddenly wanted to just curl up and cry. Instead, a rueful smile appeared on his face. “Sorry I lied to you.”

”No your not.” Her voice is flat.

”No, I’m not,” He admits, “but I’m sorry that I’m not.”

”Why?” Her eyes bore into him, silently, shinning with a morbid interest, swirling with unstableness. He wants to cring away from it, but what did he expect? It was natural to wonder that elusive question, that _why_.

He shrugged, looking away from her face, looking at the ground. “Why did I lie to you?” His own laugh is bitter and broken. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

He’s surprised her again, he knows. He can feel her eyes analyzing him. He pressed his lips together, worrying them between his teeth. “I didn’t want to burden you.” His confession is quiet, but defending in the deadly silent room. He wonders what they’re thinking, about him. 

“What does it feel like?” Her question startles him a bit, confusion creasing his forehead, before his eyebrows lifted. “Well...” his breath carches, catches in his chest, air too thick with his  _want,_ pathetic and desperate, to breathe in. “It’s... painful.” He decides on, and it hangs in the air. He swallows past the bile in his throat when it’s clear they wanted him to continue. “I... hate it.” He admits, a dry heave, a sob without tears.

_(And, oh, how part of him loves it.)_

“Then... why?” She looks like she really doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand, “if you don’t like it, why do you do it?” He can feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, can feel the constricting pressure on his throat. “Because.. I want it. I, I _deserve_ it.” It’s the the first time he’s admitted it out loud.

He parts his lips, a noise of distress falling from them, “I can’t die. I... can’t. I need to look after komaru, I need to help people,” he can’t breath, tears are falling from his face, tears he never allowed himself to shed, “but, more than that, I’m selfish. I’m selfish because I want.. I wanted to see people smile at me.”

“Is that... despair?” There’s something odd in her tone, anticipatory, and he laughs harsh and quick at the question. “Of course not,” his face is desperate, “despair is easy. To go forward despite it all.. that isn’t. It hurts far worse, but you just _can’t_ stop.”

”So it’s hope,” the emotion in her voice is undecided, “then?”

He smiled at that. “Is it?”

She just looks at him. He feels the urge to hide, to shrink into himself. Instead, he sighed, looking away. “It’s just pain, junko.” He’s exhausted, and it shows.

She nods at that, like she’s starting to understand. “Have you.. ever tried to kill yourself?”

His silence is answer enough. She nods once more, reaching a conclusion. “I’m glad you didn’t die before I met you.”

She turns, walking out of the classroom, her sister following after, like her shadow. Makoto stares after them, his chest twinging with something he can’t name.

The smile on his face is pained, but for once, real.

 

___

  

 

_(Unseen to him, junkos own smile curved, a cheshire grin, malicious delight shining in her eyes, as she left.)_


End file.
